Trouble
by RandomlyGrey
Summary: Maximillian Caldwell is a weird girl. She has a guy's name, a brilliant mind and the talent of constantly getting in trouble. That very talent brought her to SHIELD, which can be counted as lot of trouble in itself, with deadly spies, unfrozen war heroes and billionaries running loose.
1. First Mistake

Chapter One

-___First Mistake-_

* * *

I was in trouble. To those who know me that wouldn't sound like news at all. In fact, if I wasn't so damn good at throwing knives and dealing with computers, my number one ability would be getting in trouble. This thought occurred to me while I was hanging upside down by my feet, with blood rushing to my head as I tried getting myself out. Among other things, that seemed to be the perfect moment to think back about three months before, when none of this crazyness would ever cross my mind.

(...)

* * *

It all had started with a challenge by Daniel Jenkins. Well, to be a bit fair he didn't openly ___challenge_ me; his ability to piss me did. If only I had acted like the responsible 20 year old I was, I wouldn't be dragged into a huge mess.

Here's the thing: Dan-freaking-Jenkins had been bragging at the Teachers Lounge about hacking confidencial FBI files, and quoted his 'classified information' bullshit to whoever would care to hear. So, I told him what I thought of it, only to receive a nonchalant shrug and the following statement, "I don't have to prove anything to you ___Maximillian, _but I doubt you'd ever get even close to do the things I've done". That was the trigger. I managed to walk away with only a death glare in his direction, but as soon as classes ended I ran up to my apartment and decided to prove Jenkins wrong. To me CIA and FBI were child's play; any 12 year old could get in their database if Dan Jenkins could!

So when I finally let myself crash into my computer chair it took me a bit to figure out whose system I'd crack into. It had to be good... But what would it be? After staring at the screen for 20 minutes, I went to make myself a cup of coffee to keep my brain going. My mind was racing; I needed an impenetrable fortress. Something no one ever had managed to crack before. And then it simply ___clicked_; that guy who everyone always talked about in the technology department, whose industries were the wet dreams of a bunch of tech graduates all over the country, Tony Stark.

"I'm breaking into Stark Industries's computers!" I said to myself in excitement. How damn foolish...

And then my first epic mistake begun. I sat down and furiously started to type codes, had gone through setups and security barriers, and tried to understand which programing language Stark used, but they were nothing like anything I had ever seen before. It took me only an hour to comprehend that he wouldn't be foolish as to use a well known language, and two more to try and find a pattern on the commands. When night came I finally managed to find openings in his firewall that would take me into the remote system. The incription was brilliantly made, but not unbreakable, and I could feel my confidence growing by every safety feature I got past, until I was finally stuck.

I played with the sleeve of my sweater for a bit, trying to figure out what to do. Typed a few entries, ate a piece of chocolate and kept on thinking. That was getting tough. I tried getting back to my original pace, but then it hit me that all the openings were being changed as I proceeded, not because it was impenetrable but it was fighting off my attacks. You know the instincts you get when you realize you should probably back off? Yeah, I ignored mine, pushing them to the far corner of my mind, trusting the safety I had set up instead.

I spent half an hour on that little dispute, me and the thing blocking me away from my goal. I was about to give up when I suddenly succeeded, but it was only for a second. Somehow I was redirected to another system, something apparently called ___SHIELD_. I briefly wondered if they had a backup system with the name of "shield"? Because if they did that sounded incredibly dull.

I narrowed my eyes at the screen and started breaking it bit by bit. After momentarily getting into Stark's systems that other one was a piece of cake, but it was strange. It didn't seem to have anything to do with my original target. It seemed as if I had reached something entirely different from the awfully complicated codes and languages I had faced before. There were many encrypted files, that when I managed to get the code right would come up with names and sometimes photos; ___Romanoff, Barton_, and also the picture of a blue shield that seemed strangely familiar. There was also a lot of Tony Stark material there, but it didn't seem to be his own work or his industries's, unless he was spying on these people, which seemed highly unlikely.

But it felt off. I kept clicking away and breaking down encryptions until something caught my attention; my last name, Caldwell. Whatever that was, I was certain wasn't meant for anyone to see or know. I knew it was classified information, but from whom? I couldn't understand. The codes were simpler than Stark's codes, but if it wasn't his doing then what was this SHIELD, and why the heck I had this terrible feeling of familiarity?

A shiver ran down my spine as I tried to access the Caldwell file, and it was then that my connection broke down and I panicked. My breath got caught into my throat and I started sweating as I checked my safety and made sure no one would have access to me. I only allowed myself to breath after I was sure nothing would happen. There was a feeling of dread growing inside of me though. How could I have been shut down and not have my data disclosed to whoever took me off? I regreted my idea then and there; it was too much trouble just to 'get a point across'. Besides, I didn't feel at all like sharing this with anyone else.

Deciding it was enough action for the night I checked my security once again and turned off the computer, getting a tumbler and my emergency bottle of rum. I took a sip, begging my mind to stop thinking of SHIELD or Tony Stark. Another sip. Find out more was tempting though; I would be lying to myself if I was to pretend that my curiosity hadn't been poked. It was foolish, reckless and dangerous, but I couldn't stop thinking about Caldwell.

* * *

The next day was my day off, when I had no classes to attend or teach, so I had made up my mind it would be better to keep quiet and just sat at the library with a pile of books stacked high in front of me. I did my fair share of studying, when a suit towered in front of me, completely blocking my light.

"Ms. Caldwell?"

"Yeah?" I answered without looking up, "You're kind of blocking my light man."

"Oh..." He chuckled and sat down at the chair in front of me without asking, and that made me look up at him; he was in his forties, had this oficial tone and looked serious and down-to-business. The guy pulled out an ID badge from his suit pocket and held it over my book, "I'm Agent Phil Coulson, from SHIELD."

My first reaction was to keep a blank face. If I was to deny everything or bullshit my way out of the situation I had to be believable. Coulson seemed to have given a dramatic pause for me to properly react to the fact that I was aparently screwed, but I wouldn't react. That was not an option.

I could clearly hear my dad's voice in my head, from years ago: ___"Rule number one, Maxie: If you're ever approached by someone, keep a knife close and know when to run if you can't simply talk your way out of the situation. Make sure to check for exits."_

"Uh... Nice to meet you?" I half-asked as if saying 'nope, doesn't ring a bell'. Coulson smiled and nodded, like he expected it somehow.

"You were looking into some pretty classified stuff last night..." He trailed off, watching me with an amused smile. As he spoke I looked around at the doors and windows, thinking about escape routes if our little talk turned out bad.

I sighed dramatically, "Is this about the episodes of "How I Met Your Mother" I downloaded?"

"I would hardly call that classified, Ms. Caldwell." His smiled intensified and his eyes bore into mine like a parent who tried getting the truth out of a five year old kid who broke something, "I meant breaking into our system and hacking confidential information."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied, but I flinched under his gaze and he caught it.

"Well, I am pretty sure you do."

"Well, you're wrong!"

There was a silent pause. We started this little staring match, which was interrupted when the librarian came up to us and complained about the noise. Coulson stood up from his chair and waited, as if expecting I'd follow; when I didn't he spoke.

"Let's go talk outside."

"___Rule number two: Don't go along anywhere with the person. No matter what they tell you, keep a game up, and stick to your strategy."_

"I don't think so."

"Caldwell, I'm the nice cop here. If I don't have this talk with you, someone else will and I swear it won't be as pleasant."

"How do I know you're not a psycho?"

"You've seen the badge," He stared. I stared back, before sighing and getting my books and backpack.

So there you have it. My game was out of the window in a heartbeat, and my strategie was shit as I followed him out of there. In my mind I apologized silently to my dad, wondering if his self defense classes would work on government agencies instead of muggers and kidnapers. I was watching Coulson's every movement as I walked with him and thought of what dad would say if he knew what I had done the night before.

We went all the way to a bench before the agent spoke again.

"You can start by removing the knife from your bag left side pocket and handing it to me. Good. Now the one strapped in your jeans' waistband and the one inside your boot," I was impressed, so I handed him all three, but managed to keep the fourth in my left boot just in case. "Now you could tell me who you work for, and why you were looking into the SHIELD's files."

"That's the deal Coulson, I work for no one and until last night I had no idea this SHIELD thing exhisted."

"This is hard to believe, considering you broke into our every defence and managed to access information after information for exact 8 minutes and 3 seonds before we detected you."

I sighed and scanned my brain for fatherly advice, but all I could think of was; ___"If they ask about something that seems confusing to you or that you don't understand, just speak the truth and walk away as soon as you can. Make sure to stay at someone else's place for a while to make sure you're not being followed and call me."_

Unfortunately calling dad up was not an option since he had been dead for the past four years. Though one thought kind of crossed my mind, now that I remembered all his self-defence advice: dad was paranoid as fuck. ___Truth_, he had said, then truth it would be.

"Okay, listen... There's this bloke I work with named Jenkins. The asshole was on and on about how he always got into FBI database and knew of all things classified, but never said anything because of how awesome of a citizen he was... Which is just a big bunch of bullshit, so I wanted to crush his ego by getting into something way more complicated than FBI."

"And how did you know of SHIELD?"

"I didn't. I chose Stark Industries's database as my target, but ___somehow_ I ended up in yours. I mean, I can't explain. One second I was somewhere and then-" I stopped talking as realization hit me. Of course! If they were some sort of secret agency and Stark was famous for having produced guns before, they would definitely try and keep an eye on him.

Coulson looked at me patiently as he crossed the patterns on my knives with his fingers; I took the time to check his waitband. Sure enough he had a gun there. He had this calm expression on his face that made me wonder if he would be capable of killing me if my replies weren't good enough, like assassins did in movies. The notion that I would be killed over some sort of database was darkly amusing so I smirked to myself, and that made the man beside me smirk back.

"SHIELD was spying on Stark," I whispered, "You're keeping an eye on him."

"That is something I am not allowed to talk to you about."

"His system is probably designed to clash atackers into one another, or something like that. Smart!"

"That would be an explanation," He mused nodding.

"It is the only one I have to offer you."

Coulson studied my face for a bit and nodded, but I managed to break the silence, "So, am I in trouble?"

"Not that this is any of my business, but why would you risk a lawsuit or even jail time just to prove a point to someone?" He asked.

"I'm the youngest professor. I took a teaching job as a way of cutting a few hours off my phd program. Jenkins and a few others are jealous of the fact that I acomplished all that and I am only 20. They like to call me inexperienced, make up stories to show how great they are and that makes me leave all logic and sense behind." I replied honestly.

The agent didn't seem surprised. It was as if he actually expected that answer.

___Weird._

He stood up, gave me back my knives and laid out his hand for me to shake.

"That will be all for today,"' He spoke as I stood up to shake his hand.

"So, I'm in trouble? What happens next?" I asked him.

"No, you're not in trouble. We can let this one slip if you behave yourself," His tone was light. He handed me a card, "This is how you can contact me in case something strange happens. You will probably hear from SHIELD soon."

"But..."

"You're not in trouble." He reassured me, "Until we meet again."

There was a car parked in front of us, and before I could ask him anything Agent Coulson was gone, leaving me alone and full of questions.

It puzzled me that he knew about the knives I had on me, that he seemed to expect my every phrase, and that nothing I told him seemed to be new to him. How was that possible? I so sure I had never seen him before that day.

I tried to shake the thoughts aside, and put his card in my backpack before making my way back home. Little did I know that my life was about to change drastically.

* * *

**Disclaimer: I will put this one disclaimer right here, and I hope it's enough for the rest of the story. I don't own the rights to any of this, except for my OC, blahblahblah.**

* * *

******A/N: That's the begining of it. This is set two years before The Avengers, just so you know.**

******First of all, I'd like to say I don't know the first thing about programing,******** so those of you who do I'd like to apologize beforehand if my descriptions of cracking were stupid. I will hope it gives you a good laugh at least.**

******Secondly, Maximilliam Caldwell'********s skills and the little comments about her father are there for a reason, but I promise they will be explained soon enough.******** It was quite vague and slow, I admit; but it will start moving faster next chapter.**

******Last, but definitely not least, Captain America and the other Avengers will show up in later chapters one by one, but I still have a lot to cover before getting to the Avengers movie. I hope to make a different story. I can't help but throw up rainbows everytime I run into stories where Captain America is reduced to nothing but a stupid goo of immature stupidity and I hope not to make the same mistake. Also, Clint Barton doesn't seem like the idiot many people seem to picture him as, so in my story he's badass. DEAL WITH IT!**

******Any questions, criticism, angry comments and death threats can be sent to me in the form of reviews.**

******Until next update!**


	2. SHIELD

**Author's Note: I wasn't entirely happy with this chapter, so I re-wrote it.**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

- _SHIELD_ -

* * *

(...)

I raised my uper body to try and cut the rope restraining my legs, but was too weak to reach for the knife in my boot. A lot of blood had gone to my head and this was getting ridiculously tiring. When I finally reached for the knife, it slipped from my fingers and hit the floor underneath. _Good thing I have two, _I thought as I tried grabbing the next one, but the effort was too much and I collapsed again, the rope making me spin around in a motion that would make me sick if there was still anything in my stomach.

I took a deep breath and waited, trying to regain a bit of my strenght before starting all over again with the second knife. I had been turned into a red-faced messy pool of sweat and tiredness. Where was the adrenaline I had in missions when I needed to train? My long blond hair had long before gotten loose from it's ponytail and was kind of weighting me down even more. That reminded me of how annoyed some other agents were whenever I refused to cut it short. Now I regreted it.

Deciding to wait a bit longer, I kept on breathing slow and kept on thinking on my life up to that moment...

(...)

* * *

A couple of months went by since the chat with Coulson and I didn't hear from him again. I almost allowed myself to forget about it, and would have if I hadn't been strangely paranoid and aware of the things around me. First, there was this tingling at the back of my head as if someone was watching me. Every time I was alone at the library, running laps at the park, practicing defence or just walking around I felt uneasy, and had to fight the urge of looking around. Then there was the feeling that someone had been going through my things, even if it sounded a bit crazy. Eventually I got a hold of myself and realized that there was no reason for me to be jumpy. Yeah, I did mess up, but things turned out okay in the end, so I occupied myself with my every day life, figuring it was already too busy for paranoia.

The last months had been busy, but things settled in a comfortable pace. I ignored Jenkins's teasing, smiled at whoever told me I was too young to be there and didn't let anything get to me. But at the same time my curiosity was itching. There was that strange craving, the desire to fix my flaws and risk everything one more time, just to find out some more about that SHIELD and maybe take a look at what was inside that "Caldwell" folder. I wanted to get in and out undetected, but for that I'd have to come up with something brilliant. Sure it was reckless, sure it was borderline stupid and could get me in serious trouble, but I rarelly felt chalenged anymore and that seemed like a big personal one.

But there was the issue that I had no idea of how to find SHIELD again. That first time had been an accident, and because of it I was sure they would have changed their strategies regarding technical security. Little did I know that I'd find them soon enough...

The perks of being a substitute teacher was that I almost never had a class to teach, which allowed me free time to work on my thesis defence and go out running at a Park near my apartment when I didn't have classes to attend. I'd run for an hour, then have dinner and go home when it was already dark, to study for a few hours.

The turning point ironically had been a date. This cute Med School guy had asked me out, but things turned out badly. He thought I was a Biology major and when I told him of my academic life he was taken aback, so I left before things could get any more awkward. Even though the streets were quite empty it was a beautiful night and thankfully the restaurant was only eight blocks away from my place, so I decided to walk instead of getting a taxi. That could be considered the second mistake that brought me to SHIELD.

A few blocks ahead there was this tall, blond guy leaning casually against his black car. I didn't think much of it until he grabbed me by my wrist.

"Hey! What the hell?" I managed to pull my arm out of his grip and was about to run when he pointed a pistol at me.

"Don't make a sound!"

I gulped, thinking carefully of what I would do next - sure, you don't try and punch the man who has a gun pointed at you, and you don't turn around and run; maybe try and take it out of his hand? I looked up at him. Our size difference was remarkable and completely to my disadvantage.

"Get in the car Van Patrick," He nodded at the open door.

"Dude, you have the wrong person."

"Get in the car!"

"Fine!"

I walked past him and took that chance to try and hit him with the car door, but his grip on it was too strong. Also, it didn't seem like he would get distracted very easily for me to take him down.

Damn, from all the self defense stuff daddy had me do over the years, how come he didn't cover guns?

I was about to accept my _screwed-ness_ and get into the back seat, when a miracle - in the shape of an arrow - flew by and stabbed blondie in the back. I threw myself to the side as his pistol fired. Undoubtedly he was dead, I realized when I stared at his fallen figure in front of me. I had nothing but hand scratches. Looking up I saw the man who shot the arrow coming towards me; he had dark hair and blue eyes, his clothes were black and purple and he carried a bow with a stack of arrows on his back. _UH-OH!_

"Are you hurt?" He asked, his eyes checking me for injuries stopping at my bleeding shoulder.

"Just a scratch," I replied eyeing his bow and arrows warily.

"Come with me. It's not safe here."

"In your dreams!"

Then I did the only thing I thought was reasonable in a situation like that: kneeled him between the legs and made a run for my apartment without looking back (months later I'd apologize for that, but apparently it was such a weak kick it barely even tickled; turns out Barton was just surprised that I would try and attack the person who saved my life). When I got there, I locked the door and turned off the lights, sitting carefully behind my couch with three pocket knives at hand. It didn't take long for the doorbell to ring several times. My heart raced. I made all sorts of promises to be a good girl, go to church on sundays and never meddle with secret agencies again when I finally heard footsteps walking away.

Realizing something was wrong I stood up slowly and ran to my closet to change into comfortable clothing; my _The Doors_ t-shirt and black pants. I grabbed a gym back and started to throw changes of clothing and hygiene items in it when I heard a hard _thud_ on the bedroom. _The window_!

I hid behind a few dresses and held onto my german knife as if it held my life. The man called from outside.

"Open up Ms. Caldwell," I waited, "I know you're in there."

Silence, except the sound of my breath and maybe of my heart beating.

"Listen, I'm the good guy here. If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead already."

I kept the hold on my knife and opened the closet door to see the same man from before standing in my room, bow and arrows in his back and a very impatient expression. I held the blade up, next to his face.

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" I asked.

"I'm Agent Clint Barton from SHIELD," He explained, "I was meant to keep an eye on you to make sure you were safe."

"Prove it."

He pulled an I.D card from a pocket and showed it to me. Indeed... Clint Barton from SHIELD.

"What is going on here?"

"Thanks to your little computer trick, your existence has been revealed."

"It hardly seems like a fair reason to have a gun to my head!"

Barton laughed at me as if it was the funniest thing he'd heard. That caught me out of guard.

"You'd be surprised with what is fair reason to have a gun to your head."

"It makes no sense!"

He had a calculating look on his face, as though he was wondering wheter he should say anything or not, "Your father."

"What about him?"

"He did a hell of a job to keep you safe and you threw it all away when you decided to go through Stark Industries' computers. Your security went down, and your data and location were disclosed."

"What are you talking about?" I asked in annoyance as I held my knife tightly. Barton didn't seem to mind it, "How do you know any of that? You're making no sense man!"

"What do you know about Maximillian Caldwell?" He asked seriously.

"Well, he was a self-defense pro who enjoyed hunting, had a knife collection, a gun collection, a _dart_ collection" I counted on my fingers, "Hated photos and family events, had me shipped off to an intern school in Germany when I was nine, then Switzerland when I was 10 and Russia when I was 12, but later insisted I came back for university. Oh, he also named his only daughter after himself - even though I'm clearly not a guy."

"You're adopted," He stated, as if breaking the big news to me.

"I_ know_," I rolled my eyes and lowered my knife.

"Do you know who your biological parents were?"

"Nope. Dad got mad whenever I asked," I crossed my arms, "But now I am guessing _you_ know that as well. Do you mind telling the whole story? There are quite a few gaps you're leaving."

Barton made a face as if to he was going to reply, but he was interrupted by a low _bip_ coming from an earpiece he wore.

"Barton. Yeah, I blew my cover... Had to. We're at Caldwell's apartment," there was a pause where he listened, "Got it."

He turned to me after having that conversation with whoever it was he was talking to, "Pack a bag Caldwell, we're leaving."

"No." I said. The man was midway through going to my living room when he stopped to glare at me.

"Pardon me?"

"I said 'no', as in 'no way in hell I'm leaving to God knows where with a man I barely know."

He gave an exhasperated sigh and walked to where I was, hovering in front of me like a tower, his arms crossed and his eyes cold as he glared deeply into mine.

"Listen, if you don't come I'll leave and you'll never see me again; my job here will be done and I won't be around to save your neck next time someone shows up trying to kill you. And trust me sweetheart, from what I gathered they will. So pack a bag and let's go. You have five minutes."

That night I left my apartment and all my life behind and followed Clint Barton to some sort of military airport, where we took a flight to New York City. As soon as Barton and I got to the SHIELD headquarters in New York we went to meet the director of the organization, Agent Nick Fury, in a conference room. While Fury spoke, Barton was leaned casually against the wall, pretending not to hear what was being said. I was given a choice: Change my name and live a low profile life in a farm in Wisconsin, or leave it all behind and work for SHIELD, since apparently they would have an use for me. The director scolded me for quite a while, and spoke quite a few things about my father; turns out he knew him. And it suddenly made sense to me that he was not just an old weird man with a thing for exercises and self defense. It made sense that he was part of some kind of organization.

When I accepted joining SHIELD, I got a little I.D. card that allowed me lever three clearance.

"Level 3 means you know of SHIELD, you're part of it but you're not allowed into anything beyound our training center. Barton there seems to think you have potential, and I must say it doesn't surprise me that Caldwell would start training his protegee from a young age," His one eye stared right at me, it was kind of creepy to be honest.

"Why am I joining SHIELD again?" I asked, "You guys need a doctor specialized in microbiology who's talented with computers, or something? I don't see how I'd fit into this secret agent thingy... I'm just a geek."

"This is a favor I owe him. If I didn't you'd be dead, but if you deny I'm not holding you against your will."

Up to that point I was very annoyed. It was three in the morning, I hadn't had any sleep and everybody kept on saying things about my father that I didn't know. I was also mad at the old man for not once explaining what he was preparing me for.

"Just to be clear... Dad was a sixty-eight year old man who was bizarre, secluded and kind of weird; are you positive he's the guy you think he is?" Fury and Barton stared at me as if I was a baboon with a brain condition, and honestly, I kind of felt like one. I didn't get an answer so I just shrugged.

"You want to know about your parents?" Fury asked and I nodded, "They were assassinated 19 years ago during a trip to Germany. Your given name was Cecille van Patrick. For some reason they had an interest in your family and with them dead you were next in their list, so Caldwell brought you to this country and registered you as his own, giving you his name as a way to protect you."

"Wait, so I was registered as a male?"

Barton seemed to be amused by this, but kept quiet as Fury spoke.

"At first yes, and we all thought it was stupid, but that alone kept you under the radar for a long time. You'll be of great use for SHIELD if you accept going through our training, but if you refuse you'll be on your own."

I wanted to run away screaming. I wanted to go back home. I wanted to remove Fury's eyepatch to see what kind of scar was underneath. But above all, I wanted to know more, and these people seemed to have the kind of answers I wanted. And those were my thoughts when I made mistake number three and said yes.

"Good," Fury looked at Barton, who stopped leaning on his chair and sat upright, "Barton, you'll be responsible for her training."

The look on his face could only mean Barton wasn't happy about it, or that he had a pretty bad constirpation. But I bet it was the first one.

"Sir, what about my other assignments?" Barton asked sounding, looking and almost smelling disappointed, "I can't leave it all behind to babysit this woman. There are others who can take care of this."

"You will be responsible for this, Barton," Fury was decisive, "And your other missions too. I have a feeling Caldwell won't need 24/7 supervision."

"Give me a computer and I'll stay out of trouble."

"No. You'd cause a lot of trouble if we gave you a computer."

* * *

That night I got a little room at a lodging area of the bulding. It had a bed and a bathroom. Clint wasn't happy about being responsible for me, and he certainly showed it the morning after the meeting by making me run 5 km in an hour, something I rarely ever did anymore. And later on with the excuse of "testing" my hand-to-hand he threw me violently on the mat over and over, and then taught me how to get out of handcuffs.

Now running was easy, hand-to-hand was no news (except that Agent Barton was tougher than dad ever was), but escapes? Shitty! Barton had me handcuffed to a water pipe for two hours, telling me I'd only get to eat or use the bathroom if I was able to set myself free, and once I did he cuffed me again and had me defending myself from physical attacks. Later he taught me moves that would get me away from armed people. All in one day.

By the end of the second week I would leave the training area feeling sore, purple in many areas and slightly miserable. I was getting better, and my reflexes had improved a lot in a small amount of time, but being beaten up by Barton could be quite frustrating. I am very competitive after all.

"Barton?" I asked him when we were taking a break.

"Caldwell?" He asked.

"Is all this really necessary in one day?" I asked weakly and expected him to be mad, but instead he smiled.

"I need to push you, and I am," He explained, "How else are you supposed to learn a bit of endurance?"

"Will it get any easier?"

"In time," He promised, "Look at what you've done so far: You can get out of my grip and keep on fighting, and only took you a few days to learn that. This is a great pace."

I nodded and was silent, when he broke it by pulling something from his gym bag.

"Here," He handed me an I.D. cell, "Maximilliam is officialy dead now."

I stared at my picture and the name beside it as a strange knot formed on my throat _Maxime Cecille Caldwell._

"T-thanks Barton."

"You can call me Clint."

And so I did. Four weeks later I was already training on my own as Clint left for an assignment, and later on given another SHIELD card with a level 6 security clearance. Clint and I devepoed something close to a friendship and even got to work together a couple of times. After some time I was also introduced to the famous Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff. All thoughts of a phd, or sub-ing for teachers were long gone, as the new chapter of my life begun.

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**A/N: So, chapter 2. Thank you all so much for the reviews, follows and the favorite. I'm so happy! :D Well, she got two job offers, but I'm sure some of you had it coming. The whole "remembering" her path in SHIELD will end soon. This part is long, but necessary.**

**Reviews? Death threats? Swears? Helpful advice or criticism?**

**I'll look forward hearing from you guys.**


	3. Serum

**Chapter 3**

- Serum -

* * *

"It's been an hour already. This is useless, Caldwell," someone said. I recognized it as the voice of Natasha Romanoff, but couldn't move to see her.

"You'll end up killing yourself."

I forcced myself up again ignoring her. My muscles already shivered from the effort, my hands reaching for the knife. This time I managed to hold onto my feet but as I went to cut the rope I collapsed once more, screaming/whinning in frustration as my body spinned.

I was slightly curious as to what she was doing there, considering I hadn't seen her in a long time.

"That's enough!" Natasha said.

Before I could protest there was a shot and I was on the mat. I tried sitting down but my head spun and I leaned down to throw up, but my stomach was empty. Natasha took that time to apporach me.

"_That_ is why you need to carry a gun on you at all times."

As she imprinted on me a valuable life lesson I passed out.

* * *

My first mission happened six months after my training was done. It was a disaster. Romanoff and I were meant to track down Bruce Banner and try getting some genetic material to bring in for examination. We couldn't get to him in human form though, because Generall Ross and Emil Blonsky were chasing him, so after a messy run-in with the Hulk himself Natasha and I almost got killed. The success however was taking Ross and Blonsky out of his trail and finding out his next hiding place: Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

Natasha Romanoff didn't like me, and that wasn't just me being paranoid. She told me many times she doubted I was the kind of person who could "get the job done", and when the Banner mission failed she pinned that on me. I guess I would be feeling pretty sour if I hadn't received a new assignment right away.

They got me a job in a newspaper as an intern, under the name of Marianne Patricks. I was meant to approach a young man called Peter Parker to get a hold of – again – some DNA during my cover and report weekly with Agent Coulson, whom I really enjoyed seeing again. I already thought SHIELD was weird, but then finding out that this Peter Parker had some sort of strange spider super powers completely topped my feelings for my employers. I wasn't sure wheter they considered him a threat or an ally, because despite his abilities I still couldn't picture Parker causing chaos around New York, what with being this sweet nerdy guy and using his powers for good, and whatnot.

Of course, it didn't take too long for him to realize I wasn't just a friendly coworker who enjoyed hanging out with him and Mary Jane. Part of it was his super spider senses or whatever, but I had my share of guilt in blowing my cover. My people skills were terrible, since I was never the kind who hung out with the other kids growing up; and then there was the fact that Peter was brilliant and liked the same researches I once liked, back when I was in college. So yeah, when we started chatting about advanced biology he kind of questioned the backstory I originally told people. How could Marianne Patricks know about the complicated stuff if she had only managed to finish high school?

I considered being honest with him, but let's face it. It would be super creepy to walk up to him, tell everything about SHIELD and demand a DNA sample out of nowhere. Not only creepy, but something that could very well get me fired. So, instead of being impulsive I kept making coffee for our nervous boss, kept on covering up for Peter whenever he was fired, kept on watching Mary Jane's play with him (until she got fired), kept on showing up at Aunt May's place for dinner, and even tried stopping the growing drama between Parker and Harry Osborn, his old best friend.

Took me a couple of months to get a hair and saliva sample from him (don't ask!), and two weeks to grow the courage of simply disappearing, but sure enough... Mission accomplished, just as he started giving me the cold shoulder because of my suspiscious behavior. When I went back into the HQ feeling like a manipulative bitch Coulson still had me analyse Parker's DNA samples and make a file for him. No rest for the wicked!

Then there was Germany with Clint, where I recovered data while he took the leader of a terrorist organization down, and back to America, where I kept tabs on a few important members of that same organization from all over the globe, being responsible to pass it on to Clint, which earned me a level 7 clearance level. There was an incident with Parker and a man known as 'Dr. Octopus', that in the last minute I was told not to interfere since Spider Man took care of that just fine. And after that, Norway with both Clint and Natasha.

Norway was messy. They had been tailing the members from that organization for a while, and it would all end in a meeting they were having 'off the radar' in Norway. Clint and Natasha both had recently returned from a lot of trouble in Budapeste, only to find out they would have me and some guy named Baxter for backup. Natasha wasn't happy, and even though he denied it Clint was also getting worried.

I was able to ger their respect by rescuing a bullet wounded Baxter that was being used as bait, after stabbing both their kidnapers and leading the way for Clint and Natasha to finish their mission. I fell in a trap. Those people let me tied upside down for eight hours trying to turture SHIELD's plans out of me when I was finally rescued by my team mates. Later I found out Baxter didn't make the trip back to America. Even though I was praised for my efforts, the little perfeccionist genius in me had me practicing escaping ropes tireless while waiting for my next mission, not eating much and making myself sick, until the logical solution was finally given to me by Romanoff.

After Norway, I was given an apartment at a building monitored by SHIELD, where most residents were agents. I only had to go out on duty one more time after that, to make sure there would be no repeating Norway; after things seemed clear I was left to work on a lab with a skinny asian girl named Amara Roberts. Besides training everyday and making reports from what was going on at the lab, it almost felt like vacations.

Clint sometimes would pop up, pull me aside and tell me what was going on "out there". The things he could say he would, like when Banner was once again driven away by Ross and Blonksy and his location was yet to be found. I told him what I had added to my daily training and he didn't seem very impressed. He also told me that Natasha had been working to 'my old buddy' Tony Stark for a while. Things were strangely quiet and we agreed something big would come up sooner or later, and that we'd better be prepared.

It is amazing the kinds of friendships that come out of a lot of danger and adrenaline.

* * *

I woke up in my room to the sound of the door opening. I glanced up at Natasha, who sat on a chair beside me. She wore some kind of office clothing, probably because of a whatever mission she was on.

"Good, you're awake," She said.

"How long was I out for?"

"The rest of the afternoon and the evening. It's six in the morning," She informed me and I nodded, sitting on my bed. I really didn't want to know how I had gotten back to my apartment the day before, and since I didn't ask she didn't tell me.

"Knife-girl, we need to talk."

"Knife-girl?" I groaned with an eyebrow raised, "That is lame!"

"Yeah, I'll think of something good eventually," She surprised me with a smile.

"Is this about the rope training?" I asked.

"About everything really," Natasha sighed, "Clint and I let you get away with this so far because we figured it was your way of coping, but you have to let it go now."

"I almost got both of you killed," I whispered in a rather high pitched voice, "And I... I killed people, and Baxter... He would have made it if I had known how to get myself free in time!"

I nearly choked up, not realizing I had kept it inside for so long. Part of me didn't want the Black Widow witnessing me crying like a little kid, and the other part was too tired and hungry to shed tears. She moved uncomfortably on her seat, and I wondered why she was the one talking to me. Usually it would be Barton; he'd send me a message saying "Knock it off, kid" or "Stop messing yourself up".

"I'm not good with words," She confessed, "But I suppose I owe you an apology."

I just stared back, not really believing what was happening.

"I judged you as unexperienced back at the Banner fiasco, and there was no way either of us could have controlled that situation. But Norway made me realize that you are turning into a hell of a good agent, despite of how unexperienced in the field you are. For some reason Fury is trusting you with tough work. Yet, you managed to get yourself through every single task relatively unharmed."

"I don't really get why he's doing it anyway," I said.

"Maybe it's a test?" She shrugged, "My point is, when you've been in the field as long as I have, you learn how to deal with emotions. I suppose you're taking everything well, and I can tell you've been well prepared for this life from a young age. But you need to let Norway go, and not fisically torture yourself into perfection. Everybody messes up but _this time_ you didn't so save it for when you do."

"I'm sorry too," I told her, "Yeah, I freaked out for a bit, but I guess not being in action kind of makes me overthink things."

She nodded and pulled a gun case I only just realized she had with her, placing it on my bed.

"This is yours. Like I said before: knives are good, but shooting is more helpful in a crisis."

I fingered the case thoughtfully, realizing I would have to re-learn how to shoot pretty soon.

"Thank you Nat, it means a lot."

"Fury wants to see you at eight," She continued.

"Shit! Nothing good can come from that."

"I'd say that. I'm stuck monitoring Tony Stark."

"So I've heard. What is he up to? Las news I had was when went publically with the whole Iron Man thing."

"Up to his usual schemes and driving his girlfriend insane..."

We chatted about small things for a while and then she had to take a plane, leaving me to prepare for the meeting with Nick Fury.

* * *

I got there on time, sat down and waited for the talk. I hadn't seen Director Fury in person since the night I got into SHIELD. Most of what I had to do was passed to me by other agents, or taken care of by phone or memos. He looked at me carefully before starting.

"Good to see you in one piece, Caldwell. I can say I'm surprised."

I nodded and thanked him. He paused one more time to stare at me and I felt very uncomfortable. I mean, a badass looking one eyed man staring at you is definitely something you don't see every day.

"What do you know about the super-soldier program?" He finally asked.

"I can't say I know anything, sir."

"Ever heard of Captain America?"

"Yeah. I mean, who hasn't?"

"What do you know of him?"

"Not much, I confess... He's America's greatest war hero. His name came up a few times back in history classes, but since I studied in German and Switzerland my tutor decided he wasn't _that_ important."

Fury seemed slightly offended by that, but he kept on his mask of calm and_ badass-ness_, as he picked up a big stack of folders.

"I guess my tutor was wrong then..." I laughed nervously, but all the Director did was push all the folders in a pile in front of me.

"You have homework Caldwell, _a lot _of homework it seems."

I nodded eyeing the pile hungrily. The sooner I started, the sooner I'd get done.

"A few years before World Ward II the government wanted strong soldiers who would change the course of wars quickly. One man was able to achieve that formula; his name was Abraham Erskine, who created a serum so powerful he turned one man into a monster – known as Red Skull, you'll see him on your files – and one sickly kid from Brooklyn into a war hero."

"Steve Rogers became Captain America, and the rest is the history you know. In these files you will find out what history books keep away, so there's no need to tell you that this is entirely classified."

"Yes, sir."

"After you're done with those I want you to start researching the serum itself. That doesn't leave this room Caldwell, but I am sure you will figure it out. We need to know what turned Steve Rogers into Captain America, to use that for our own purposes, and not let other organizations have a shot at this. I don't care what you do, how you do it or how you feel about this, but you will report your discoveries to me. You can't tell anyone, doesn't matter what their clearance level is. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir. But... Are you sure I'm the person for the job?"

Fury looked serious about it, but pulled a new folder from a drawer in his desk and begun reading from it.

"You finished high school when you were 12, started med school by the time you were 14 but instead of following a career as a medical doctor you chose to keep in the academic field, got a masters degree in microbiology when you were 19 and started a doctorate soon after," He had a small smile, almost as if he was teasing me when he dropped the file, "I daresay you'll do just fine."

It was good for my ego, but the thing he was asking me sounded very strange. Even stranger than Peter Parker.

When he dismissed me I stood up and left, holding the pile of files with both hands and getting to work as soon as I got to my apartment. I felt weird for having so much trust put on me like that, but I was secretely wondering what Fury was up to, and what the heck he wanted with super soldiers. Whatever it was, it didn't smell good. In my view, powerfull people had the bad tendency of screwing up.

* * *

**A/N: Short chapter. Anyways... At the timeline, we're at the start of Fury's big week. Next chapter we'll get to Thor. This is the end of flashback-like writing, so brace yourselves.**

**I'm trying to be faithful to the timeline, but I changed the Hulk information here and there just for the sake of my fanfiction. Now, I love the old spider man movies so I just thought I'd squeeze them here too. Thanks a lot!**

**A/N 2: Uploaded a cover image, just a sketch of what I think Maxy would look like. Kinda meeeeh, but it's all I have.**


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